


Mind Your Manners (and Watch Those Teeth)

by boy-thighs (sop)



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 15:47:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5169479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sop/pseuds/boy-thighs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>tumblr user riseelectric likes mikhail. tumblr user riseelectric likes cain bottoming. put two and two together and you get this</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mind Your Manners (and Watch Those Teeth)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [riseelectric](https://archiveofourown.org/users/riseelectric/gifts).



> **warnings** : barebacking, breathplay, dub-con, bondage, offensive slurs, someone gets slapped, there's cum on the carpet please watch your step

“Want another?”  
  
Lev’s eyes glaze over as he stares at the proffered cigarette. Or beer? He can’t tell which Mikhail’s offering, but he kind of wants both. Lev leans over, grabs the cold can, and then steals Mikhail’s stick from between his thin fingers. They’d been inside him fifteen minutes ago, rubbing and stretching and prodding all over. Lev shifts uncomfortably on the couch, ass raw. He’s still not used to bottoming. A cold blast from the AC cools their sticky skin as they sit in their underwear, mindless reality shows from Earth playing in the background.  
  
Mikhail softly  _tch_ ’s, noise gobbled up by the television’s low drone, but he doesn’t pull away. “So greedy,” he laughs, smiling. Mikhail lets the cigarette go without much of a fight. “Kids these days. All you wanna do is take, take, take. Youth.” He grabs the pack off the coffee table and pounds out another. The cigarette rests comfortably between his swollen lips. “Isn’t that right, Lev? You’re pretty good at that, aren’t you?”  
  
“Fuck you,” Lev growls. God, he’d love to wipe that smug grin off Mikhail’s pretty face, but he’d probably have to one-up him in the bedroom at some point for that to happen. Currently, he’s zero for twenty. This week.  
  
“Already did, but if you give me twenty minutes I could probably get it up again.”  
  
Lev growls because he hates Mikhail’s stupid sarcasm. And because his cock jumped hopefully at the prospect. Shit, he’s getting horny. Again. Lev discretely adjusts the small chub in his boxer briefs. “Just can it and finish your beer, asshole.”  
  
Mikhail snorts. “Shouldn’t that be your nickname? Considering I was just—”  
  
“I SAID SHUT UP!”  
  
They fuck. A lot.  
  
Mostly when Lev’s drunk, tired, or bored out of his goddamn mind. Sometimes a combination of all three. There’s an itch he can’t scratch, one Lev can’t reach on his own, and Mikhail’s been happy enough to rake his nails up and down Lev’s back, deep enough to scar. It’s not like he doesn’t get anything out of this arrangement. Mikhail’s not one to leave anything he can grab still lying in plain sight on the table. And Lev isn’t, either. Which is how this little arrangement started in the first place.  
  
Mikhail was just sort of there one night, tipsy beyond all belief, and laying the charm on thick, teasing and poking in his usual manner until Lev’d just about had enough and did something about it. He’d shoved Mikhail onto the sofa cushions, two hands balled in his grossly tight turtleneck, and barked at him to quit being a cocktease or he’d make him regret. Mikhail had smirked, surged forward, and then covered Lev’s mouth with his own, too brief to be considered a kiss, but heated enough to make Lev tumble backwards on his ass, dazed. That’s when Mikhail’d found an opening and crawled over him, pinning his wrists to the couch before whispering  _we could regret something else_.  
  
Lev doesn’t. At least, not yet.  
  
Mikhail doesn’t either judging by how often he drops by for yet another “friendly visit”.  
  
Whatever.  
  
Lev likes getting off.  
  
And so does Mikhail.  
  
“Jesus, fuck! My ass!” Lev groans, shifting from cheek to cheek. Mikhail was unusually rough last round and Lev’s still feeling the burn. He came really hard, though. So maybe he’s into that. A little.  
  
“The name’s Mikhail, and you should probably wait a bit before shoving anything else up there, kid. Or you won’t be able to shit right for weeks.” Mikhail ruffles Lev’s hair patronizingly to add insult to injury, getting off on Lev’s obvious embarrassment. God, he’s such an asshole!  
  
Lev snorts. “Speaking from experience there?” he shoots back, trying the tough act again.  
  
Mikhail sips his beer and winks. “Maybe. Wanna go again and find out for yourself?”  
  
Lev chokes on his drink. His dick throbs inside his briefs, straining against the front, blatantly hard. “Thought you needed twenty minutes, old timer.” He licks his lips, letting the insult hang indefinably between them. He’s not exactly opposed to the idea, but Lev doesn’t want to seem desperate. Not intentionally.  
  
“Mmm. Ten now, I’d say.” Mikhail takes another drag, stubs the cigarette out in the ashtray, and then finishes his can in three gulps. Lev races to catch up. “You’re good to go, though.” He eyes Lev’s burgeoning erection with interest, practically boring holes through the cotton with how hard he’s staring.  
  
“It’s nothing,” Lev mumbles, turning away, cheeks flushed. It’s hot in here, okay?!  
  
Mikhail stretches his arms out across the back of the couch and scoots the tiniest bit closer, hip bumping into Lev’s. Lev’s cock tents embarrassingly inside his underwear, the smallest bit of contact ready to set him off. “You can take care of it if you want. I don’t mind.”  
  
And now Lev’s almost as red as the bite marks on his neck. “M’fine. Don’t think I could come again even if I wanted to.”  
  
“You sure about that?”  
  
If there’s one thing they have in common it’s that they both can’t say no to a challenge, something that’s carried over from childhood. Lev’s never beaten Mikhail. Not once. He doesn’t expect to this time, either.  
  
“I’m pretty fucking sure,” Lev says with faux bravado.  
  
Mikhail smirks. “Okay. Touch yourself.”  
  
“The fuck for?” Lev’s fingers twitch excitedly against the cushions. He really wants to. He wants Mikhail to even more though.  
  
Mikhail leans closer, lips brushing against the shell of Lev’s right ear, and his hot breath electrifies Lev’s already heated skin. “If you can jerk it for, oh—” Mikhail glances at the clock on the wall. Or where a clock would be if Lev bothered to decorate his apartment like a normal human being “—Jesus, Lev, go buy a fucking wall clock or something; this is why Anna has to wake your ass up every morning. Anyway. If you can jack off for five minutes without coming, I’ll let you top. Just this once. Scout’s honor.”  
  
“You told me you got kicked out after a week,” Lev deadpans.  
  
Mikhail rolls his eyes. “Whatever. That’s beside the point. What I’m getting at is this: if you can beat off without coming I’ll let you top. But if you do, then you’re gonna have to do something for me. Deal?”  
  
Betting against Mikhail is always dangerous. He’s a crafty son of a bitch that always finds the upperhand and right now Lev feels like he’s being duped. But then again, he could top… Lev spends all of ten seconds deliberating Mikhail’s proposal before saying, “you’re on, asshole!” and shoving his hand inside his boxer briefs.  
  
Four minutes later (with Mikhail’s fingers twisting his nipples and silver tongue whispering absolute filth in his ear) Lev shoots his load, sticky, hot cum flooding his briefs.  
  
“Told you,” Mikhail sneers, rubbing it in. “I know you better than you do.”  
  
Lev’s never felt so angry after an orgasm in his entire life. “Whatever, you got lucky! I almost held out.”  
  
“I dunno. You kinda lost it when I cupped your balls and bit your neck.”  
  
“That was cheap! You know you can’t—” Words fail him, as they always do after he comes “—Fuck you, Mikhail!”  
  
“Well you can’t now because you lost, but don’t worry. The consolation prize is pretty good.”  
  
Oh fuck, he made this bet without even asking what the hell Mikhail’s getting out of it. “Which is…?”  
  
“Ah-ah.” Mikhail wags his finger. “It’s a surprise.”  
  
“What kind of surprise?” Lev hates surprises. Almost as much as he hates Mikhail right now.  
  
“The good kind. Just trust me. You’ll like it, kid.” There’s something incredibly unsettling about Mikhail’s smile. It’s predatory and toothy, and Lev almost feels like he’s possibly signed his life away. Or maybe just the ability to sit down for the next three days.  
  
“Stop calling me that! You’re only two years older!”  
  
Mikhail chuckles and lowers his face unbearably close to Lev’s own. Their noses bump. Lev visibly swallows. “I could call you ‘sweetheart’ instead.”  
  
Lev shoves Mikhail off him, making it a point to smear as much cum as he can against his skin. Mikhail recoils in horror. Hah. The clean freak deserved it. “I’d rather be tied up and gagged.”  
  
Mikhail stops squirming and Lev doesn’t like the look on his face. Not one bit. “Is that so?” he says, gears turning inside that big head of his.  
  
Lev frowns. “Are you drunk or something?”  
  
He doesn’t like the way Mikhail’s laughing as he picks up his clothes, either, like he’s got something up his sleeve. “Nah. You’re free this Friday right? Not working?”  
  
“Nope. They’re closing the factory down to check the machinery or something. Why?”  
  
Lev definitely doesn’t like that shrug either. Fuck. What’s Mikhail up to?! And just what the hell did Lev get himself into?! “No reason. Just don’t think about going out, all right? You’ve got plans.”  
  
“Yeah? And what are they?”  
  
Mikhail grabs Lev’s shirt and quickly uses it to wipe the jizz off his chest. “You’ll see,” he answers before Lev can open his mouth and tell him to stop ruining his clothes like a jackass. He tosses the dirty tank top in Lev’s face and leaves, pants halfway zipped and shoes untied.  
  
Well it’s not like Lev had anything else to do on Friday.  
  
Besides Mikhail that is.  
  
*  
  
It's nine o'clock and Lev hasn't done jack shit all day. Hasn't gone drinking with Oleg, hasn't done anything questionably amoral with Anna, hasn't even beat off--which might've been the hardest goddamn thing in the entire fucking world. The half chub he's sporting reminds him of this sad little fact and Lev adjusts it pathetically. He's just been sitting here, in his apartment, alone, for the past (fuck, he really needs a clock) six million hours. All because Mikhail—stupid, cocky, smug  _Mikhail_ —told him to.  _Don't leave, don't go anywhere, just sit there, watch some TV, and look pretty, kid. That's all you gotta do._  
  
So that's all he fucking did.  
  
And right about now, Lev's bored out of his mind counting all the cracks (fifty-eight) in his wall. There's nothing worth watching, either, so he grabs the remote and flips the television off.  
  
Lev stares down at the sad state of his crotch and sighs. "Fuck it." If Mikhail's not coming, he might as well.  
  
The loud  _zip_  echoes inside his quiet apartment and Lev nearly snags the metal teeth on his cock as he pulls it out and shoves his underwear down. Shit, he's really worked up. It doesn't take much to get him here, though. Lev's still in the prime years of his youth, that age where sex overrules both common sense and reason. And even though Lev can hear a little voice in the back of his head telling him to wait, stop, don't do it, he tunes that part out and licks his dry palm, and then wraps it around his painfully hard dick.  
  
"Ah, fuck," he hisses at the sudden friction because  _Christ_  he's been holding back for too long. His legs spread wider and he all but humps his hand. Lev knows how to get himself off. He’s had about six years’ worth of practice to perfect his technique. Lev flips through a mental slide show of tits and ass before settling on something generic he'd seen online.  
  
He twists his wrist, jerks up, and slides back down with fast, even strokes. It works for a while, getting him vaguely close to the edge, but then he hits a wall and that faceless porn star he's thinking about does about as much for his libido as a splash of cold water.  
  
Fuck. He's getting soft.  
  
Lev squeezes harder, desperately tries every trick he knows, but nothing fucking works.  
  
That's when he remembers the bottle of lube stashed between the couch cushions; the one Mikhail had shoved in there after they'd first started fooling around. Mikhail couldn't believe that Lev had never tried a little ass play after an entire year of blowjobs and anonymous gay sex.  _You should learn to take it every once in awhile, too_  he’d said. Right before offering a free fingerbang session. After a couple of beers and some heavy flirting, Lev wasn’t exactly in a position to say no. It’s kind of hard to with your face smooshed into a pillow, rear in the air.  
  
Which is where he finds himself now.  
  
Lev squirts a generous amount of lube on his fingers, getting them slick, before he reaches backwards and wriggles one inside. The fact that he needs this to get off lately kind of pisses him off. He’s gone full fag and it’s all Mikhail’s fucking fault. Lev doesn’t like being the girl. He hates being told to lie back and relax, or let someone else do all the work, but with Mikhail it’s different. Mikhail keeps him on edge, tries to make having a dick up his ass more of a challenge than just something that's expected by now, a mini competition to see who will or won’t get fucked by the end of the night. So far, Lev’s never topped. But that doesn’t mean he’s ready to stop trying.  
  
Just as he pushes a second finger in, a soft click comes from somewhere behind him. Lev startles for a second, but can’t be bothered to turn around. He’s close and, frankly, doesn’t care.   
  
“Another problem with today’s youth. They’re too damn impatient. Couldn’t wait, could ya, Lev?”  
  
Lev stops mid-thrust and very nearly chokes on his drool. “How the fuck’d you get in here?!” he snaps.  
  
Mikhail drops the bag he’s carrying and plants two hands on his hips, smirking. “The front door, moron. How else would I get in?” he replies, not at all taken aback by the sight in front of him. Lev prays for a quick and painless death.  
  
“You know what I meant!”  
  
“Anna gave me these.” Mikhail jingles the keys in his hands. “Told her I needed to come over for something. But I guess you decided to start without me.” He clicks this tongue. “What? Couldn’t wait for my cock, sweetheart?”  
  
Lev’s breath hitches. God he fucking hates that nickname, but his dick apparently doesn’t. A fat glob of precome leaks from the tip. “Shut up, asshole! You took too damn long! Had to do something to pass the time here!”  
  
"It's only been—" Mikhail stares at his watch because he knows to bring one when he comes here now "—ten hours since I last saw you. Jesus, Lev, you want my dick that bad?"  
  
Yes. "No! Just take your pants off and get over here before I finish, Mikhail!" He still hasn't pulled his fingers out.   
  
Mikhail undoes his belt and strides over toward the couch, and for a minute Lev actually thinks he's going to get what he wants. Mikhail likes to tease, bring Lev close to orgasm and then pull away just to watch him squirm, but he's never actually gone anywhere with it. They're both too impulsive for that shit, but there's something different about Mikhail today, almost predatory and sadistic as he sits next to him, and Lev's not sure if he's turned on or terrified. Maybe both.  
  
"What? You want this?" A dry finger circles Lev's hole and Lev has to bury his face into the pillow to keep from outright moaning. God he needs something bigger in there. Now. Mikhail's thumb shallowly dips inside, the tip briefly joining Lev's own fingers, before he pulls away to rub the base of Lev's spine. "Come on, say it, sweetheart. Tell me you want this."  
  
Lev growls, tries to put up a front, but his hips rut backwards anyway, ass pushing into Mikhail’s bigger hand. “Fuck you! Just stick it in!”  
  
“Not until you tell me what you want, Lev. Come on, just admit you're a slut for my cock and maybe I'll think about it.” That thumb slides back down, teasing the rim, and this time Lev really does moan, so loud it spills out from behind the pillow.   
  
He feels hot and dizzy and ready to burst, but Mikhail just won’t let him—fuck! He’s such a fucking cocktease in the worst possible way. Lev can't think straight. His balls ache, full and heavy, and if Mikhail doesn't shove his dick in there soon he's gonna hump the goddamn cushions from desperation. “I swear to God, Mikhail, if you don't fuck me I’m gonna—”  
  
The threat dies on the tip of Lev’s tongue when Mikhail suddenly grabs his hips and presses them flush to his own, Mikhail’s erection digging into Lev’s thigh. He’s just as hard and probably leaking, but Mikhail maintains a sense of composure Lev’s long since lost. He’s much better at playing this game. “Gonna what, Lev?” Mikhail says, voice thick, and the sound of it goes straight to Lev’s painfully hard cock. “I don't think you're in any position to be making demands, sweetheart. Though—” Mikhail drapes himself across Lev’s back and chuckles lowly in Lev’s left ear, the deep, breathy noise pulling an unintentional whine out of Lev’s throat “—if you ask me, I think you look pretty damn good like this. Desperate and needy on all fours, your best assets on display.” He gives Lev’s rear a small squeeze and laughs at the reaction.   
  
“You're such a prick, Mikhail,” Lev breathes out through clenched teeth, attempting to sound angry, but his voice shakes near the end.   
  
“A prick you're gonna choke on if you can't behave.”  
  
“Make me.”  
  
Mikhail grins and Lev can feel it against his skin. “You're gonna wish you hadn't said that.”  
  
The room spins and Lev suddenly finds himself flat on his back, shirt and briefs tugged off in the span of five seconds, somewhere forgotten on the floor. He’s naked, still hard, and very fucking confused. “Mikhail, what—”  
  
“Be a good boy and keep that pretty mouth of yours shut or I’ll have to find something to stuff it with.” Mikhail shoves Lev back down onto the couch and flips him over again, face buried in cheap polyester.   
  
Something stiff wraps around his wrists and Lev glances over his shoulder just in time to watch Mikhail bind his hands with the belt he’d been wearing around his pants, twisting the leather tightly until Mikhail’s satisfied that Lev won’t be able to break free. Lev squirms, panicked. What the fuck is happening right now?! Mikhail’s never done this before. Their little fuck buddy sessions are always borderline vanilla at best, never like  _this_. Mikhail peels off his shirt and admires the view. The smug bastard probably looked up how to do this.  
  
“Just what the hell do you think—”  
  
“I said shut up,” Mikhail orders, tone gruffer than usual. He leaves the couch to go digging around in his black bag. Lev swallows and chews on his lip.  
  
“Or what?” he challenges. Lev’s treading on thin ice here, strangely turned on by Mikhail’s sudden personality shift and enthusiasm for amateur BDSM, but he can’t help it, not when there’s some fight still left in him. And Lev kind of wants to see just how far he can push Mikhail before he snaps. “You gonna smack me around a bit? Spank my ass? Didn’t think you were that kinky.”   
  
The shit-eating grin on Lev’s face disappears when Mikhail walks over with a giant bottle of lube, some rope, and a black handkerchief. “And I quote: ‘I’d rather be tied up and gagged’,” Mikhail says. “So, Lev, you ready to make good on that promise?”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“From yesterday. You still owe me.”  
  
Oh.  _Oh_. “I wasn’t—”  
  
“Serious?” Mikhail finishes. Lev cranes his neck and ignores the cold shiver running up and down his spine. “Yeah, well, I was. And it’s time you paid up. Unless—you don’t think you can handle it. You can pussy out, Lev. I won’t hold it against you. Either way, though, I’m fucking that ass.” Mikhail drags the zipper on his pants down and lowers them, making a show of it. His cock tents enticingly against his briefs. Lev licks his lips.   
  
Lev’s dick throbs, soaked completely, and he moans shamelessly into the quiet of his apartment. Jesus fuck, this shouldn’t turn him on so badly, but it does. Mikhail’s gonna fuck him whether he wants it or not, on all fours, spread open, or bent over a table. It’s not a matter of how but  _when_. So Lev laughs, takes a deep breath, and says, “I’d like to see you try.” Because he’s willing to take that risk.   
  
Mikhail’s smirk curls down into a frown. “You will. Now be a good boy and please, shut the fuck up.”  
  
Lev forces himself into a sitting position, which is a little difficult considering he’s bound. “Thought you were gonna gag me?” he jokes.  
  
Mikhail doesn’t laugh. Instead, he walks over, handkerchief in hand, and grabs Lev by the hair, throwing him down onto the carpet. Lev lands with a heavy thud and he gasps, a little shocked and disoriented. He twists onto his back and squirms pathetically, cock twitching needily against his stomach.  
  
“I am,” Mikhail promises, voice very dark now, terrifyingly deep. “After I shoot my load down your throat.” He grips Lev by his roots and yanks him up into a kneeling position, forcing his head to tip back, throat exposed. Lev’s breath quickens, coming in harsh, ragged pants. The rough carpet chafes his knees. “You talk too much. Just open wide and swallow.”   
  
Before Lev can say anything witty (or make a horrifyingly pathetic noise), Mikhail’s shoving his briefs down and pulling out his cock. Lev stares and thinks of all the ways he’s been fucked by it. Mikhail’s thicker and longer—something Lev’s always been jealous of, but he supposes that’s what happens when you grow an extra three inches one summer riding the coattails of puberty.   
  
Mikhail impatiently grips his erection and presses the tip to Lev’s chapped lips.   
  
Lev’s eyes glaze over, mouth watering, but he doesn’t budge.  
  
“Stop being so difficult,” Mikhail warns. He sounds excited though, like he’s getting off on all of this, too. “C’mon, Lev. I know how much you love sucking my cock.”   
  
Mikhail threads his fingers through Lev’s hair and yanks so hard that Lev yelps, eyes watering and lips parting. That’s all Mikhail needs to shove his dick in, taking advantage of the situation with zero fucking warning. Lev immediately gags around it and he tries to adjust, mouth stretched wide and red around Mikhail’s large cock. He’s blown him loads of times, but never like this. Mikhail’s precome is salty, bitter, and warm, and Lev swallows what he can as the rest spills out. Saliva dribbles down his chin and onto his chest while his knees spread wider on the carpet, silently begging Mikhail to do something about the situation between his legs. When he doesn’t Lev whines and decides to use teeth.   
  
“ _Christ!_ ” Mikhail hisses, immediately pulling out. He checks for any nicks or marks. Lev’s canines are fucking sharp.   
  
“Not so easy is—”  
  
Lev hears the slap before he feels it, loud crack echoing in the small living room. He slumps against the coffee table, shocked, right cheek stinging like hell. His heart races uncontrollably, practically pounding against his ribcage, and Lev almost comes right then and there. Jesus Christ, he’s sick if he actually gets off on being hit.   
  
“Don’t do it again,” Mikhail orders. He grips Lev’s face between his fingers hard enough to bruise and stares down, jaw clenched. “Or next time I won’t be so nice.”  
  
The glass tabletop reflects Mikhail’s red handprint perfectly and Lev traces the outline of it with his eyes, noting how bright the color looks against his tanned skin. The rest of him’d look good like that, too.   
  
Mikhail grips the base of his cock with one hand and the back of Lev’s head with the other, slowly easing it inside Lev’s wet mouth again. And this time Lev doesn’t put up a fight, because he really does like giving Mikhail head.  
  
It’s not easy with his hands bound, but Lev tries to work through every inch until Mikhail’s settled comfortably at the back of his throat, dick pressing uncomfortably against it. Lev’s lips feel stretched wide and swollen as Mikhail shallowly thrusts forward, using Lev’s hair as leverage while he face fucks him slowly. Considerably more spit and precome drools from the corners of his mouth this time, enough to make a mess all over his face. Mikhail isn't all that delicate either, quick snaps of his hips that have Lev gagging and choking. Lev quietly moans for more.  
  
“You really do love my cock, don't you?” Mikhail grabs a fistful of Lev's bangs. “Say it sweetheart. You love drooling on my big dick. Huh?” He pulls when Lev doesn't immediately reply.  
  
A garbled  _yes_  spills past Lev’s lips and he nods, too lost to care about his bruised ego. He loves how hard and thick Mikhail tastes on his tongue and if that makes him a full-blown faggot, then he guesses he can deal with it because Mikhail’s one, too, judging by how much he’s getting off on fucking Lev’s face. Mikhail thrusts back in, deep enough so that Lev’s nose brushes against his trimmed, black pubes. God, Mikhail’s such a fairy.   
  
Mikhail pushes Lev’s hair back and smirks. “Such a slut, Lev. God, look at you. You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?” He toes Lev’s erection with the tip of his boot and Lev’s knees spread that much wider. “Practically humping my fucking foot. I bet you’d sink yourself down on my cock if I asked you to right now, wouldn’t you?” Lev moans. Mikhail thrusts back in, a bit rougher this time, until Lev’s mouth is a wet, sloppy mess. “And you told me you’re not a bottom. I think you like taking dick more than you let on, sweetheart. That ass of yours was practically made for it. But I guess a cockslut like you already knew that, huh?”  
  
The hard leather of Mikhail’s boot nudges him again and that’s what sends him over. Lev cums all over himself and Mikhail’s shoe, body shuddering and thighs shaking from his orgasm. His head fogs and there’s an obscene amount of jizz sliding down onto the carpet, pooling in thick globs between his legs.   
  
Mikhail snorts, both in amusement and disbelief. “Jesus, Lev, did you seriously just come from  _that_? Are you fucking kidding me?”  
  
Lev would say something snarky if he could, but he’s still dizzy and disoriented, and Mikhail’s dick is stuffed deep inside his mouth.   
  
“You’re an even bigger slut than I thought. Wow.”   
  
It’s a relief when Mikhail finally pulls his cock out and Lev slumps forward, exhausted. His knees burn and his jaw aches.  
  
Mikhail grabs Lev’s hair and yanks his head down, pushing him down onto the carpet, right in his own mess. “You gonna clean this up or not?” Mikhail barks, pushing his boot into Lev’s face, semen smearing against Lev’s flushed cheeks. “Come on, faggot, I know you’re into it.”  
  
Lev’d probably be into fisting if Mikhail told him to right now.   
  
The boot digs further into his skin. “Lick,” Mikhail says and Lev begrudgingly obeys. He’s so fucked up.  
  
Lev doesn’t particularly like the taste of his own cum, but he laps it up anyway, tongue catching every little bit that splattered onto Mikhail’s boot. It’s tangy and bitter, and starting to cool. Lev frowns when he’s finished, not sure what comes next. Mikhail hasn’t told him yet.  
  
“Good boy.” Lev almost gags because he hates how fucking much he likes being called that. Mikhail pats the top of Lev’s head and then bends down, cupping Lev’s jaw gently. “Now swallow.”  
  
And Lev does, without question, even though he’d rather spit it all in Mikhail’s smug face.  
  
When he’s finished, Mikhail grabs Lev’s arm and flips him down onto his stomach. “You shouldn’t have come so soon, though. I didn’t tell you to, did I? Now I’m gonna have to get you hard again.”  
  
The rope left forgotten on the couch makes a second appearance and Lev rolls onto his side to watch Mikhail unravel it. His pulse pounds, blood racing, and he thinks Mikhail won’t have to try all that hard to get him there.  
  
Mikhail undoes the belt and Lev sighs because his arms fucking hurt. The dark, red marks on his wrists feel raw and sore. They’ll probably be there for days. Maybe weeks. He doesn’t have time to rub them, though, because Mikhail’s turning him onto his back and binding him again, hands above his head this time, belt looped around his wrists even tighter than before. Mikhail takes the rope and pulls Lev’s right leg away from his left, spreading him wide-open, knees bent, until one ankle’s tied to the foot of the couch and the other’s by the table.   
  
Lev struggles momentarily, but gives up when he realizes that Mikhail’s made these knots fucking impossible to break out of. He won’t move until Mikhail lets him.   
  
“Keep still,” Mikhail says, tone stern.   
  
Lev growls in annoyance, but the sound is cut off by that black handkerchief in Mikhail’s left hand. Mikhail gags him with it, stuffing Lev’s mouth full of cotton, and he smiles when Lev shoots him a rather pointed death glare.   
  
“There. Much better.” Mikhail stands up to admire his handiwork. His cock’s still hard and leaking, but he’s not nearly as desperate to come as Lev was five minutes ago. “If you behave, I’ll give you what you want. So be a good boy, Lev, and do as you’re told.”  
  
Lev slackens, defeated, and it nauseatingly churns his stomach with excitement. He wants Mikhail to tease him, bring him near the edge, take control of his body and do whatever the fuck he wants. Which is pathetic and humiliating in ways Lev can’t even begin to describe, but he wants it all the same. To be used, fucked, and tossed aside. Mikhail’d do it, too, if he asked him. But Lev can’t, because the damn gag won’t budge and every word he mutters comes out muffled, silenced.   
  
At this rate, he’ll be hard again in a matter of seconds, not minutes.   
  
Fuck Mikhail.   
  
Seriously, just, fuck him.   
  
Mikhail finally steps out of his pants and shoes, dumping them near the couch. He’s not overly muscular like some of the other guys Lev’s been with before, but he isn’t twinkishly thin, either. A happy medium of lean and toned. Mikhail’s got disgustingly broad shoulders and a narrow waist, hips tapering in just so, but his ass’s a bit flatter than Lev’s, which Lev supposes is the only thing he’s got on him. Other than that, Mikhail’s taller, fitter, and stupidly handsome. Sharp angles, soft skin, and a bone structure that puts any model’s to shame. Those pretty boy features belong in a magazine. Or a porn rag. Lev’s not picky.   
  
“Don’t come,” Mikhail warns, dropping to his knees, hovering over Lev’s body. “Or I’ll leave you like this. Got it?”  
  
Lev makes a pathetic noise in the back of his throat, but nods anyway.   
  
“Good. Just relax, sweetheart. You’re gonna like it.”  
  
Mikhail’s mouth drops to Lev’s shoulder and he gently nips and sucks, teeth scraping his skin because Mikhail fucking knows Lev’s into that shit. He starts sucking harder though, chewing on larger chunks of Lev’s flesh until he’s left a trail of blotchy red marks all over his right shoulder and neck, indentations where his canines had just been forming imperfect, deep half-circles. Mikhail’s a fan of hickeys and marking what’s his. And so is Lev, though usually he’s the one doing the biting, not the other way around.   
  
Lev moans when he feels his cock swelling again.   
  
“You look better with a few bruises,” Mikhail says, mouth full. “They look good on you. Have fun covering them tomorrow.” His fingers trace the large mark on Lev’s throat and Lev hisses. “This one’s gonna be big.”  
  
Jesus fuck if Lev could wipe that smile off Mikhail’s face, he would. God it’s so fucking obnoxious.  
  
“What?” Mikhail laughs, sensing Lev’s obvious annoyance. “Don’t tell me you don’t like it, because that’s a fucking lie, sweetheart. See?” Lev bucks against the restraints when Mikhail grabs his dick. “You’re getting hard.” Mikhail pumps his cock a bit, just enough to get him most of the way there. “You like this shit, don’t you, Lev? Being tied up and played with.”  
  
The drool leaking from Lev’s mouth might as well be a  _yes_.  
  
It feels like hours go by—and, really, they may have—before Mikhail’s finishes torturing him.   
  
He’s covered in hickeys, chest splotchy and red, and Lev’s panting, completely out of breath. The room might as well be spinning because Lev’s so fucking dizzy with arousal he can barely remember where he is or his own goddamn name. Mikhail pinched, squeezed, and bit his way down until Lev couldn’t take it anymore and outright sobbed the first time his tongue licked the tip of his cock. The rope digs into his ankles painfully, burning whenever he tries to push forward for more because Mikhail won’t fucking put his mouth where Lev wants him most.   
  
“You want me to suck you? Is that it?” Mikhail teases. He tongues the slit and Lev’s toes visibly curl.   
  
Lev nods shamelessly and thrusts upwards, trying to get the head of his cock in Mikhail’s mouth again.   
  
And then the gag’s gone, tossed somewhere to the side. Lev’s jaw aches worse than before. Mikhail stares up at him, thick lashes covering his blue eyes, still holding Lev’s cock. “Say please.”  
  
Normally, Lev wouldn’t but—  
  
“Please,  _please_. Mikhail, just—fucking,  _please_!”  
  
He hasn’t heard the sound of his own voice in a while and it’s absolutely wrecked, cracking and hoarse and pitiful.   
  
Mikhail smirks. “Only because you asked so nicely.”  
  
It’s warm and wet and Lev  _almost_  comes the second Mikhail swallows around him, but then he remembers what Mikhail said and holds back, forcing himself not to blow his load right then and there. Mikhail’s always had a gift for giving head (he’s the one who taught Lev how not to be complete shit at it), and knows exactly what Lev likes best: fast, tight suction that leaves him begging for more. Mikhail doesn’t waste any time and deepthroats Lev as far as he can, and Lev’s thighs shake because he’s so dangerously close.   
  
Just when it’s starting to get good, Mikhail pulls off with an obscenely wet pop, and Lev almost,  _almost_  cries.   
  
“Not yet. Not until I’m balls deep in your ass,” Mikhail chides. He stands up and leaves, searching for the lube. “Fuck, Lev. Gonna stuff you with so much cum. It’s gonna look so good dripping out of your hole. You’re such a fucking slut you’d probably like that right? My cum deep inside you?”  
  
They don’t fuck bareback, or at least they’ve never talked about doing it that way. There’s always a condom on hand. Mikhail’s a bit of a clean freak and doesn’t like semen that isn’t his anywhere near his body unless it’s going down his throat. Too much mess for a problem that could easily be solved with a little rubber and patience. So when Lev thinks about Mikhail going in raw, taking him without some flimsy latex separating the walls of his ass from Mikhail’s thick cock, he groans a loud  _fuck_  and hopes Mikhail gets the idea that yeah, Lev’s really fucking into that.   
  
The cap clicks open and Mikhail’s back between Lev’s legs, smiling. “Relax, baby. We’re almost at the good part.”  
  
There’s something to be said about the way Mikhail opens him up. Lev’s impatient and doesn’t exactly take his time whenever he stretches himself. Mikhail, though, he could do this all fucking day. Those delicate fingers of his curl and twist and rub every inch of his insides, stretching Lev’s muscles wide open until he’s babbling incoherently and begging for something bigger. It’s a slow process that Lev both loves and hates because it drives him so fucking wild in the best (or worst) way possible.   
  
“Mikhail,  _please_ ,” Lev whines, voice cracking. “ _Ah_ , please just…” He bites down on his lip when Mikhail finds his prostate, forcing the scream back down his throat.   
  
“Please what?” Mikhail does it again and Lev wants to fucking punch him when he laughs so fucking arrogantly. “C’mon, Lev. Use your words.”  
  
Lev ruts his ass backwards into Mikhail’s hand. Jesus fuck he’s gonna die. “Your cock!” he growls. “Please, I want—need—” He doesn’t even know what he’s trying to say.  
  
Mikhail seems to figure it out, though. “Yeah, okay,” he replies, breathing labored and words slurred. His composure’s cracking.   
  
The lube lands on the couch and Mikhail quickly unbinds Lev’s ankles, rope falling to the ground. Lev hitches them over Mikhail’s ass, drawing him in closer. He needs something inside him. So fucking bad. “Just fuck me already,” he complains. He’d yank Mikhail’s hair if his stupid wrists weren’t still tied to the table leg.   
  
Mikhail takes pity on him and loosens the belt. Lev’s wrists fucking burn. “Don’t ruin the mood, Lev.” Mikhail slicks his cock and lines the head up with Lev’s entrance. “And say my name when I push in. I wanna hear it.”  
  
Lev probably would have even if Mikhail hadn’t told him to. It comes out choppy and breathless, Mikhail’s name spilling from Lev's lips in half-formed syllables rather than actual sounds. Lev clutches Mikhail’s shoulders, hair, whatever he fucking can as his ass clenches around the hard, thick cock filing him up, splitting him wide open until it feels like Lev’s body might actually break in two. No matter how many times they fuck, it always feels so oppressively suffocating, breath stolen from Lev’s lungs and head foggy as Mikhail thrusts all the way inside.  
  
They both moan at the feeling, pausing to adjust.  
  
“Holy shit,” Mikhail says after a few seconds. He’s trembling and probably close. “You’re so tight. Fuck, even after yesterday.  _Christ_. I can barely move.”  
  
“You better, or I’m g-gonna— _fuck_ —do it myself.” Lev wiggles his hips impatiently.   
  
Mikhail smirks. “Yeah? Show me, then.”  
  
He immediately regrets saying anything because Lev’s fucking himself desperately now, pushing back onto Mikhail’s dick eagerly like a bitch in heat. He needs Mikhail to ram that cock so far up his ass he’s gonna feel it for days. And the fact that Mikhail’s driven him to this point pisses him the hell off. “Fuck you and just fuck me!”  
  
“Shut up, Lev.”  
  
They don’t do it often, too sentimental for what this really is, but the occasion calls for it. Mikhail’s mouth covers Lev’s own, their tongues sliding together frantically in an open, wet kiss that leaves both of them panting. Lev groans against Mikhail’s lips when he starts to roll his hips, shallow at first, loosening Lev up a bit, before slamming back inside with urgency, fucking Lev so hard he inches up the carpet. Mikhail pins Lev’s wrists in place to keep him still. The loud slap of slick skin on skin drowns out the sound of Lev’s phone ringing distantly in the background.   
  
Mikhail’s right hand curls delicately around Lev’s throat and Mikhail slows down, as if silently asking Lev if this is all right. He’s been rough all night, but there’s something a bit more serious about asking permission for this. Lev licks his lips and cocks his head, telling Mikhail to  _just go ahead; do it_.  
  
That’s when Mikhail squeezes, forcing the air out of Lev’s lungs as he chokes him, fingers tightening hard enough to bruise. Dizzy, the oxygen slowly dissipates from his brain leaving Lev feeling tingly and lightheaded, everything else heightened as Mikhail continues to fuck him, the slow drag of his cock that much hotter, thicker, fuller inside of him. It’s only when Lev’s face turns uncharacteristically pale does Mikhail back off, easing away with a tenderness Lev hasn’t seen since yesterday. Air floods back into his lungs and Lev takes another deep breath before Mikhail does it again, only this time a bit longer, as if proving to Lev that he’s still the one in control.   
  
Lev comes like that, with Mikhail’s hand wrapped like a vice around his throat. Mikhail’s cock barely brushes his prostate and then Lev explodes, hot spurts of semen bursting between them, landing in large streaks across Lev’s stomach and Mikhail’s abs.   
  
Mikhail lets go and grabs Lev’s hips for leverage, pounding into him harder, faster.   
  
Suddenly, he pulls out and Lev whines at the loss. “Get on your knees,” Mikhail says, voice thin. He always sounds that way when he’s about to come.  
  
Lev scrambles onto all fours, ass in the air as he rests all of his weight on his elbows. Mikhail quickly slides into him again, deeper this time, and Lev drags his nails through the carpet because he’s so fucking stuffed. His cock’s still leaking, too, staining yet another portion of his floor.   
  
Mikhail settles above him, draping his body across Lev’s like earlier as he fucks Lev’s ass in earnest now, losing all sense of rhythm. He leans forward, bites down on the sensitive spot on the back of Lev’s neck and Lev clenches around him, pushing Mikhail over the edge. His orgasm hits him so hard the force of it nearly knocks him over. Mikhail stills completely and unloads inside of Lev with a long, drawn out moan, whole body shuddering as he comes.   
  
Neither of them move for a good thirty seconds, still panting and sweating and completely boneless.   
  
It’s Mikhail who pulls away first, softening cock slipping out of Lev’s well-fucked hole. Mikhail thumbs the rim curiously, watching as cum leaks out and dribbles down the backs of Lev’s bruised, kiss-bitten thighs. The contrasting colors looks even better than he imagined. “Told you it’d look good,” Mikhail laughs.  
  
Lev groans, too tired for words. He feels like a truck not only hit him, but backed up and reversed over his recently deceased corpse. The belt marks and rope burn isn’t helping, either.  
  
Mikhail stands up wordlessly and shuffles away, and for a minute Lev thinks he might’ve left.   
  
He comes back with a wet washcloth and bowl of water in both of his hands not long after, crisscrossing on the carpet next to Lev. “You’re a mess,” he says as he wipes down the cuts and raw skin, cleaning them.   
  
It’s so romantic. Lev nearly pukes. “Yeah, and whose fault is that?” he snaps, or tries to. His voice hasn’t come back yet. “And stop washin’ me. I can do it my own damn self.”   
  
To prove his point, Lev forces himself to stand up, but immediately falls back down, legs long since turned to jelly. Mikhail catches him with a laugh and settles Lev’s grumpy self right back down next to him. “Yeah, you really showed me, kid.” And then Mikhail leans in, lips too close to Lev’s ear. “Or should I say,  _sweetheart_?”  
  
Lev growls and shoves him away. “Fuck off! Don’t call me that! M’not a chick!”  
  
“Says the guy who just got his ass fucked. Hard.”  
  
He needs a smoke. Or fifty. Mikhail reads his mind and reaches for the pack in his pants pocket along with his lighter. “Shoulda bit your whole fuckin’ dick off,” Lev grumbles when Mikhail passes him the cigarette. Lev takes a drag and closes his eyes.   
  
“But then who’d fuck you that good again?” Mikhail grabs the stick and smirks. “ _Oh, Mikhail, fuck—yeah, please, harder_!”  
  
Lev’s grateful he doesn’t have the cigarette anymore, because he’d probably stub it out on Mikhail’s knee. “I’m seriously going to kick your ass if you don’t shut the fuck up.” He shifts and the cum still lodged in his ass makes itself known. “Ugh. After I shower. I can’t believe you came inside me.”  
  
Mikhail shrugs indifferently. “You didn’t say no.”  
  
“I didn’t say yes either!”  
  
“Not verbally. The look on your face did, though. Like when I started to cho—”  
  
“Shower. I’m going. Now.” Lev stands up and does not fall this time, though he kind of limps his way down the hall. Mikhail really did a number on him, inside and out.   
  
He doesn’t expect him to, but Mikhail follows after him anyway, slinging an arm around Lev’s waist to help him on his quest for hot water and soap. “You know, it’s a little rude to not invite the person who made you come twice in one night.”  
  
“It’s not like I need you in there with me, Mikhail! Christ, I know how to bathe!”  
  
“Stop being a brat and walk, kiddo.”  
  
“And stop calling me a kid, you old fuckin’ geezer!”  
  
Mikhail sighs, pushing the bathroom door open. He knows it’s the second door on the right, after Lev’s bedroom. His toothbrush sits next to Lev’s in the cup. It’s purple and white. “I guess I didn’t fuck all the rude out of you yet. Maybe we’ll try again later when you’re a bit more receptive to my techniques.”  
  
Lev shudders, partially because he’s so fucking sore and can’t imagine doing anything else other than sleeping, but also because he’s a little curious about what else Mikhail’s got up his sleeve. “Just shut up and turn the faucet on.”  
  
“Sure thing…sweetheart.”  
  
Mikhail laughs while Lev yells.  
  
It takes a little longer than usual for Lev to wash down. Mikhail does most of the work, shampooing his hair and lathering whatever he can, probably due to some sense of guilt. Or maybe he’s just trying to earn some nonexistent points, which he can cash in later for another quick round. Lev’s not impressed, though, strangely, he doesn’t mind. Whatever. Mikhail’s fingers feel good rubbing circles on his scalp.   
  
All of the cum washes down the drain thanks to Mikhail’s freakishly meticulous methodology. The bites and bruises, though, those’ll probably stay with him till the end of the week. Maybe longer. Lev stares at them in the fogged-up bathroom mirror, poking and prodding them to see if they hurt. Which,  _ow_ , they do. They’ve tinged deep purple and blue now.  
  
They tie some towels around their waists to assess the damage done to the living room. Lev desperately needs to clean the carpet before the cum crusts over.  
  
When Mikhail moves to grab his things Lev freezes. “You leavin’ already?”  
  
Mikhail stops picking up his shoes. “Huh? Oh, I dunno. Why?” He leans against the wall, laying the charm on thick. “You gonna miss me?” Mikhail’s grin turns Lev’s stomach.  
  
“No, asshole!” Lev shouts. “I just don’t wanna have to clean this mess up myself.”  
  
“Yeah, sure, whatever you say,  _sweetheart_.” Lev opens his mouth to say something, probably  _fuck_  and  _you_ , but then Mikhail’s cornering him, his larger frame bracketing him to the wall, and Lev swallows down whatever grade-level insult he had lodged in his throat. “You know, instead of scrubbing the carpet, we could go back to your room and count all the hickeys I left on your chest.” Mikhail’s fingers skim across the splotchy marks there. “And your neck.” Then travel upwards, stroking the skin on his throat. Lev’s face flushes red. “And down here, between your—”  
  
The front door suddenly opens.  
  
“Why the fuck was it unlocked? Jesus Christ, it smells like a whore house in here.”  
  
“Dunno. But I guess—oh my  _God_.”  
  
Anna and Oleg stop dead in their tracks, case of beer nearly slipping out of Oleg’s hands and landing to the carpet. Anna pales and all the color drains from Lev’s face.  
  
Anna’s eyes meet Lev’s and then Mikhail’s and then Lev’s again.   
  
Five seconds go by.  
  
Then ten.   
  
Then twenty  
  
And then she screams, rushing out of the apartment before they’ve exchanged a single word. Oleg laughs and puts the beer down. “I guess we’ll drop by tomorrow then, eh? Have fun, and, uh, you should probably clean that.” he says, pointing toward the large cum stain, before chasing after her.   
  
The door closes again and Lev slowly turns to look at Mikhail, invisible flames on the side of his head. “You didn’t lock the door?” he grinds out, teeth clenched and jaw set.   
  
Mikhail’s eyes widen and he stares back, frozen. “So…” he pauses “I’ll be seeing you then!” Mikhail dashes to go pick up his clothes.  
  
“LIKE HELL YOU WILL!”


End file.
